Good Grief
by Melpomene Lee
Summary: Every minute of every hours, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you more. Amy's diary entries in the wake of tragedy. Amy/Jake (Warning, character death)


This is just something I threw together to distract me from working on my thesis. It's definitely not my best work and I may do some editing later but for now I'm posting it as is. I tend to name my stories after the song I was listening to while I was writing them and this is no exception. Good Grief, by Bastille. I hope you enjoy it.

Vee

Good Grief

October 6th, 2017

We were going to go places. It sounds vague but honestly that was part of the excitement of it. We didn't have any set destinations in mind; we were just going to take a week off, pile into my car with a couple of duffle bags and start driving. I'm not spontaneous, but I was so excited to try this with you.

I learned something new every single day of our relationship. That's eight hundred and sixty-nine lessons I learned from being with you. Now I have to learn lessons from being without you and those five have been the worst lessons of my life.

I miss you.

October 7th, 2017

I'm having trouble sleeping because every time I close my eyes I find myself running backwards through that day, trying to figure out if there was something- _anything-_ I could've done differently. If I'd kissed you one last time before you left, delaying you for a second, so you wouldn't be in the precise path of that bullet. If we'd stayed up just little bit later the night before so you'd sleep through your seventh alarm and get to work five minutes late so you'd get to the crime scene five minutes later and miss the perps entirely. I've been prescribed trazodone to help me sleep but I hate taking it because even after only a couple of days, my dreams are getting more vivid and every single morning I wake up crying because I can _feel_ the bullet ripping through you, or _I'm_ the one holding the gun, or I'm standing right next to you when it happens and I'm screaming but I can't stop it from happening.

I want you back.

October 8th, 2017

Your funeral was beautiful. You probably would've hated it, but Captain Holt wouldn't allow confetti cannons at a police detective's grave. I know Jewish tradition is to leave a small stone on a headstone as a sign of respect, but we all left a bit of confetti for you. It was the best we could do under the circumstances. I couldn't bring myself to give a eulogy, but the Captain and Charles both did. You would've appreciated it. Captain Holt gave a real speech for you. More than two minutes long. You really were like a son to him, and however much he denies it, I know he's hurting as much as I am for losing you.

I sat with your mom. She has your flag, since we weren't married, but I would've wanted her to have it anyway. It just seems appropriate.

The squad all went to Shaw's afterwards. There were toasts. We reminisced a lot. Or tried to, anyway. I don't know, I didn't stay very long. The entire day was so emotionally exhausting that I couldn't handle much more than one drink and an attempt at a thank you to everyone for being so supportive. And they _have_ been incredibly supportive, even though I can tell everyone else is gutted too. I've told them not to walk on eggshells around me, that I'm not fragile; I'm not going to shatter without you, but honestly I'm not so sure that's true.

October 9th, 2017

I've been granted bereavement leave so now I have six weeks to pull myself back together before I have to go back to work. I'm already going stir-crazy and I'm running out of posterboard.

I hate this.

October 11th, 2017

Gina's offered to let me stay with her, since my apartment's still covered in your things and I can't bear to throw them away but I also can't stand to be around them. Grief has made her uncharacteristically nice and I like this side of her but I hate that I have to see it.

I miss you so much.

October 13th, 2017

Charles offered to be my grief buddy. I turned him down. Somehow I feel like we have different ways of dealing with this. My departmentally-mandated therapist agrees.

Rosa's spending hours on end at the shooting range. She's getting better. Apparently black paper targets are on back-order now so she's bringing paper from home. She's been nice to me, too, in her own way. She offered to help me hunt down the guy who shot you, but I said no. Vigilantism wouldn't bring you back, and we'd be out of a job if we got caught. Offer's open as long as the guy's on the street, apparently.

That was the first time I smiled after the funeral.

October 14th, 2017

Scully and Hitchcock sent an italian party sub that's as long as I am tall. I tried to explain that I'd never be able to finish it, so they offered to help. It was seriously disgusting but I did appreciate the gesture.

Terry's taking time off too. Spending time with his family and going back to therapy so he doesn't need to be forced out of the field again. I think it's helping. I haven't heard much from him because he said he wanted space.

We're managing. I kind of can't believe it, but we're managing.

October 17th, 2017

Today was bad. Rosa insisted on doing my laundry since I haven't done it in almost a month. She was trying to be nice and she wound up washing the t-shirt you wore the day before the shooting. And she stripped the sheets off the bed and washed those too. They were the only things I had that still smelled like you and when I realized what had happened I may have screamed at her and told her to never come back.

I feel bad now but she's not answering my calls so I can apologize.

God, I wish you were here.

October 19th, 2017

I found the last bottle of your cologne in the back of the bathroom cabinet. I sprayed it all over your pillow and the t-shirt and the scent is way too strong now but I've literally been lying on your side of the bed for four hours because I can't bear to be away from it. This isn't like me at all. I hate you. I hate you for dying and reducing me to this.

October 21st, 2017

Rosa and I made up. I apologized for overreacting. She apologized for not asking me if I wanted her help. We're meeting for lunch tomorrow to have some girl-time and talk about something besides how sad we both are. My therapist says I need to get out of the house even though it's only been a few weeks. There's only so much time a person can wallow without going crazy.

October 23rd, 2017

I love you. That's all.

October 26th, 2017

I miss you so much.

October 30th, 2017

I'm going back to the precinct for the Halloween bet even though I still have two weeks of leave left. You can't be there to compete so I feel obligated to take your place. Whatever happens, whoever wins, I love you and I think you're an amazing detective/genius.

October 31st, 2017

I hate you. I hate you for dying and leaving me alone. I hate you for planning the Halloween bet as a proposal. I hate that I would've said yes because I've been robbed of that chance. I hate you.

November 1st, 2017

I love you.

November 14th, 2017

Tomorrow's my first day back at work. I think I'm ready.

November 30th, 2017

We caught him.

December 12th, 2017

Happy Hanukkah, Jake.

December 20th, 2017

I bought more of your cologne. I still squirt it on your pillow sometimes. I miss you.

December 25th, 2017

I spent Christmas with Rosa and Gina. We all miss you so much.

December 31st, 2017

Happy new year, baby.

January 20th, 2018

It's been a month since I last woke up crying. Maybe this is how moving on starts?

January 31st, 2018

I know you never had the chance to ask, but I started wearing the engagement ring you bought for me. On my right hand, since we were never engaged, but I want to keep you close, even when I can't wear your t-shirts or watch your stupid movies or eat your garbage snacks that are still somehow in the apartment. I love you.


End file.
